


Ekzisto

by blua and oro (vehlr)



Series: Blue & Gold XY-XX - Mainverse [10]
Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), Booster Gold (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/blua%20and%20oro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(existence) - being a Time Master is tiring work, but thankfully there is a little time to just… be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ekzisto

Vanishing Point is eerie - there is no other word for it. She shivers, moving closer to Ted as they work their way through the building.

"How long has this place been here?" Ted wonders aloud.

"We're at the end of time," she responds. "It doesn't really mean anything to ask that now."

"Good point. So this is... your home? In the future?"

"It was... or, will be. Whatever. Rip wasn't exactly clear about what happened here. Apparently I don't stick around. Hopefully I found somewhere nicer."

"The cold is definitely off-putting." He shrugs. "Still, it's pretty big... clearly you came into some money somewhere along the way."

"Huh, good point. Either that or I have a sugar daddy."

"Never utter those words again."

She chuckles. "Why not?"

"First of all, it sounds weird when you say 'daddy'. I actually feel wrong inside when you say that. And second, the idea that you'd ever be reliant on a man is laughable. You're Booster Gold."

"I'm reliant on you," she points out.

"Not really. You managed without me."

"Barely."

"You know what I mean." He opens his mouth to continue explaining, but their goal is in sight - a small jut of land that bears the final resting place of Ted Kord. She holds his hand tightly.

He squeezes back. "You okay?"

"Just… the memories," she says softly. "I try not to think about it, but when I'm here..."

"I'm sorry. I just... I had to see it." He stares at the broken ground. "The other headstone... I don't know, it didn't feel real."

"It's alright." She bends down to brush the makeshift grave-marker. "Jaime made this one, you know. Took him a while to convince the scarab to help. He wanted to help me dig, but I was... insistent. Had to do it myself." She looks up at him. "Have you ever buried someone? Really buried someone - no casket, no fanfares... just a shovel and the dirt and a body."

He swallows. "No, I... can't say I have."

"It's really hard." She takes a deep breath. "God, it takes so long! You can't make it a shallow grave, even here... you have to keep digging and digging. And it's all hard soil, dead ground. I was going to plant flowers, but… well, never did.” She straightens up finally. “I thought I was going to be here forever, that this was my penance for letting you down. But as I kept digging, I thought about all the times I'd let your memory down - not speaking at your funeral, not being able to save you, not being able to protect Jaime... and I realised it was a gift." She smiles suddenly, wiping away a tear. "One last chance to say goodbye, to honour you. And it hurt, but... almost a good hurt, in a way. I couldn't be a great hero like you, but I could... keep going. Keep trying."

"'Chelle..." He envelops her in a tight hug, throat tight. "You were the greatest hero. I've seen what you did - what you still do, every day, and I am so proud of you."

She buries her face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you." Her voice is small, her grip tight. “I still... I still let you down, but -”

“No, you didn't. I know you don't believe me, I know you'll never believe me... but from what everyone else told me? You did everything you could, and that's enough.” He kisses her hair. “Sometimes... sometimes that's all you can do.”

She shivers in his arms, and he wonders if he got through. The silence is long, but eventually she speaks again. "I don't recommend it."

"Hm?"

"Burying someone."

"Two star rated activity at best," he teases.

"Definitely." She pulls back, smiling gently. "So don't get any ideas, okay?"

"Promise." He takes one last long look at the grave of Ted Kord. "Although... being put to rest by my best friend and the Blue Beetle? Probably the best send-off I could ask for."

 

***

 

Despite the gloomy morning, they spend the afternoon with Fire and Ice, and when Michelle’s phone chirrups the disappointment is evident. She leaves the trio to continue the fun, stepping out to make another unwelcomed appearance at a party.

The social scene whirls on late into the night, and Michelle finally crawls in at 3am, heels slung over her shoulder as she squints in the dark. She had told Ted not to wait up, and for once he was nowhere to be seen. The idea of joining him in bed still sends a thrill of joy up her spine, and she heads for the soft glow emanating from her – no, their bedroom.

“Ted?”

“Hey.” He smiles, getting up to greet her, and her jaw drops – the room is littered with tiny lit candles, the warmth of the light infusing them both with an almost angelic quality.

“Oh my god, Ted, what is all this?”

“Well, I figured after the day you've had, you could do with something nice. So come here, let me get you out of that dress, and lie down on the bed so I can massage you.”

She shoots him a look. “Massage? You massage?”

“I have mad skills, 'Chelle. Don't you remember physio?”

“I remember my muscles hurt a lot less, but I wouldn't call those skills 'mad',” she teases, dropping her shoes to the floor.

“Well, prepare to be amazed.” He runs a hand down her back, pulling the zipper lightly as his lips graze hers, and she lets the dress drop. “Correction... first I'll be amazed by you. Damn, 'Chelle...”

“I have my own skills.”

“God yes.” He shakes his head slightly, before taking her hand. “But this is about you, not me. Come, lie down.”

She ducks her eyes, suddenly feeling quite exposed as she shuffles over to the bed. “You don’t have to – oh!” He all but shoves her to the bed, laughing softly.

“Less talking, more doing what I tell you.”

“Excuse me?”

“For once, Booster Gold, you’re going to heed the advice of your elders.” He straddles her back carefully as she arranges the pillows underneath her head.

“Technically you’re younger than me now. Not even a year old.”

“Actually, this body’s been in the tank for a few years already”

She shivers. “That makes me feel so, so wrong.”

“Oh, I dunno.” Oiled hands start to make slow circles into her shoulders, and she cannot help the soft sigh that escapes her lips. “You feel pretty right to me.”

“Ted –“

“Less talking,” he reminds her. “You need to relax. You’re like a brick wall back here.”

“Mm. Not all of us can afford the rates of a personal masseuse.”

“My rates are exceptionally reasonable.”

“Good, because I’ve already decided to keep you on retainer.” She rolls her shoulders into his touch. “Live-in. But only for me. Rest of your client list can find someone else.”

“I take it you concede to my mad skills?”

“Mmmm. Lower.”

“As you wish.”

She chuckles at the film reference. “Remember when we used to quote films in the heat of battle?”

“In my defence, I really was getting too old for that shit.”

“Liar.”

“Heart condition!”

“Superheroes don’t ge- _ahhh_ …” Her protest trails off in a whimper as Ted hits a particularly tense patch.

“I had surgery and everything. I wouldn’t have left for less.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You hated the League by the time we disbanded.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. Everyone did. We were a joke.” She laughs. “I never stopped from then on, really.”

“’Chelle –“

“It’s alright. Meant to be, after all.”

“We bounced back.”

“If you’re referring to our freelance work under the name of ‘Superbuddies’ –“

“I mean here and now,” he interrupts, hands stopping for a moment. “And it’s good.”

“It’d be better if you kept going.”

He smiles, hands trailing even lower. “Slavedriver.”

“What’s the point in having a live-in masseuse if you don’t – _oh…_ ” She is silenced by wayward fingers finding her naked apex, and she bites her lip to stop herself from moaning outright.

“I wasn’t complaining, for the record. Being your slave has its perks.”

“Mmm.”

“Alright?”

“ _God_ , yes.” She rolls onto her back, smile wry. “Looking for a tip, are we?”

He grins, unbuttoning his shirt. “Got your tip right here.” And it is an awful line, but she laughs and pulls him down to meet her, relaxation giving way to passion.

 

***

 

_She dreams of time._

_She can only just feel them, gossamer threads that pulse and flow past her and through her, and she feels them ebb and flow with each breath. Was this was Rips machines detected? Each individual stream? She tries to run a finger along a strand -_

Ted stumbles over the pile of clothes, knocking over the vase

_\- but her head hurts at the slightest touch, and she gives up the endeavour, trying to concentrate on the image she had just seen. It slips away, much like a dream fades when gripped too tightly._

_In front of her, a thread splinters into two pathways - was this something being changed in a timeline? She reaches out again to the fracture, feeling the scene rather than seeing it. But still it makes little sense, the pain threatening as she gets closer and closer to contact. God, she hates to admit it, but Rip would be a real help right about now..._

 

Ted tries to be gentle, but waking up Michelle is never an easy task. He shakes her, waiting for the inevitable grumble.

"Rip?" She jolts at his touch, bleary-eyed but awake.

"Good guess, he's outside -"

"Someone's tampering with the timeline. Watch out for the vase." And with that cryptic parting comment she rolls off the bed, reaching for her costume.

Ted is mystified, and starts to follow her, but the mess of clothes on the floor from their impromptu night catch him unawares and he falls, bumping into the chest of drawers and knocking over the vase of flowers he had bought only yesterday.

Silence descends for a long moment as they stare at each other. Rips patience, however, is not vast. His terse knocking brings them back to the moment and Booster curses as she struggles to pull the fabric on.

"Tell me later," mumbles Ted through a mouthful of sweater, and his head emerges from the neckline as she leans over to steal a kiss. “Mm. On second thought, come back to bed...”

“Later,” she laughs, adjusting her gloves. “Promise.”

“Better be.” He shimmies into jeans as she hurries out the door.

“Took your time,” grumbles Rip as they head into the lab.

She rolls her eyes. “Good morning to you too. Couldn't the premiere of _Ariodante_ wait five more minutes?”

“How did you – wait, wait.” He grabs her arm. “You saw it, didn't you?”

“Rip, I swear to god if there's another Time Master surprise waiting for me, you'd better tell me right now.”

He grins, and she finds it more than a little frightening. “You _did_ see it. The streams.”

“I am barely awake, I have not had coffee and I am about to be sent to the late eighteen-hundreds. Keep it short.”

“Time Stream – it's like fabric, it's the threads of the universe wound together.” He meshes his fingers together. “Each strand touching others. You get the basic idea. But you can see them, in the right frame of mind. Just on the edge of consciousness, when you're not quite dreaming. You can see them, touch them – but I wouldn't advise it.”

“I got that.”

“What did you see?”

“Ted knocked something over. I... I feel like I made it happen.”

“Maybe you did. But you also saw the past – a discordant thread. That's the part we fix, the missions. And now you see what I see, you can be a step ahead.”

“I didn't see everything.”

“Not yet, but you will.” He reaches out to grab her shoulder, smiling. “And then you'll teach me how to do it in the future.”

She does not feel particularly convinced, but nods. “Okay. So what's the deal with Handel? I got that the premiere doesn't exactly pan out the way it should...”


End file.
